None of the Above(28)

“Oh, I’m just here to see if Krissy’s okay with all her Homecoming Queen duties. You know how it is—photo shoots and speaking responsibilities and everything.”

“Huh. You girls have a good chat.”

My dad wandered back into the kitchen, and I waited until I heard the clank of dishes in the washer until whispering to Faith, “You didn’t have to come.”

“I waited for you for half an hour after school! How could I not worry? What was I supposed to think?”

I shrugged, and picked at my cuticle. “I don’t know . . . that I’d gone underground. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do during a natural disaster?”

Faith put her hand on my arm. “We’ll get through this, Krissy.”


I pulled away at the pity in her eyes. How could she understand? Everyone loved Faith the instant they met her. In fifth grade, she and I had sold cookies together outside the local Walmart, and that’d been the first time that my dad hadn’t had to buy a dozen boxes so I could meet my quota.

Even she couldn’t sell hermaphrodites, though.

“Should I pick you up tomorrow morning?” she asked.

I shook my head, thinking how nice it would be not to have to hear the whispers, not to have to worry every second about whether Vee or Sam would be around the corner. Then I remembered the suffocating vortex of my bed. I worried that if I stayed home I wouldn’t be able to keep the whole blowup away from my dad. And I heard my mom’s voice in my head. A lady always holds up her head and smiles, even in the most trying circumstances.

“I’ll be ready,” I promised Faith.

Glutton for punishment.

I went back into the kitchen to the sight of my dad crouched over his laptop with his hand to his temple, muttering something under his breath.

“Do you need some Excedrin?” I asked.

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s just . . . Did you know that AIS may be what that runner Caster Semenya has?”

“Who?”

“Don’t you remember? That teenage girl who came out of nowhere and broke all those records in the eight hundred meters a few years ago? They accused her of being a man. Ended up suspending her. She was from South Africa or something.”

“So?”

“If State ends up taking away your funding . . .”

“No.” My voice came out strangled. Please don’t let them take this away from me, too.

My dad rubbed his hand up and down his face like he was wiping off sweat. He took a deep breath, and schooled his face to look calm. “It’s okay. . . . I can always take out some loans if they take it away.”

“What . . . my scholarship? Can they do that?”

“Honey, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll make some calls tomorrow.” He fiddled with a napkin, and I stared at the liver spots on the back of his hand. His comb-over had gotten thinner and thinner. When had my dad gotten so old?

I went up to my room, but couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, I lay in bed for an hour listening to the sound of the wind battering the trees against my bedroom window. Longing for the past. Dreading the future. And drifting in the present like a ship lost at sea.





CHAPTER 16


Faith picked me up early the next day so we could get in and out of our lockers before the morning stampede. For the first time since freshman year, I got to homeroom before the warning bell had even rung.

Ms. Thomason looked up when I walked in, and waved me over to her desk.

“Kristin, how are you doing?” she asked gently. I recognized that eggshell voice. “Ms. Diaz left me a message for you. She wants you to stop by the guidance office whenever’s convenient for you—here’s a hall pass. You could even go now, you know. I don’t have any important announcements.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to miss first period.” More like, there was no way in hell I was walking anywhere during school rush hour.

As the other kids filtered in, none of them laughed or pointed or anything, so I guess that was an improvement. I almost wished that I had a test so I could pretend to cram. Instead I listened to Faith go on and on about the winter-formal bake sale.

“You know how hard it is to get people to bake,” Faith chirped. “Will you make Rice Krispie Treats? If you can, make sure to use some Fruity Pebbles on the top,” she said as we heard a ruckus out in the hallway. A bunch of kids went over to the door to peek out, and I raised my head to see what the commotion was about, but Faith ignored them. “It adds color and makes them so much more—”

“What’s he writing?” one of the other kids asked.

“Whose locker is that?”

“It’s probably some stupid football hazing ritual.”

That didn’t make sense; I thought it was too far into the season for that stuff. I felt a flicker of dread. And I heard my name.

“Where’re you going?” Faith asked as I stood up. “Just wait here, Krissy. I’m sure it’s something stupid.”

I had to push through people who were coming into the classroom, giggling. As I walked down the hallway toward the noise, I felt someone grab my arm. It was Darren Kowalski. He wasn’t laughing.

“Hey, Kristin,” he said a little too loudly. “I wanted to talk to you about that Merchant of Venice homework. Were you thinking of doing an extra-credit scene at all?” He tried to steer me in the other direction, toward my homeroom.